Good morning, darling!
by Hmob1994
Summary: Seven 100 word drabbles, about my seven favourite pairings mornings. Contains: RusAme, GerIta, FrUK, PruCan, SuFin, TurGree, Spamano.


Russia groaned softly as he felt the first rays of American mornings on his face, through the half-open curtains. He shifted and tried to tighten his grip on the bundle that – _should_ – still be huddled against his chest, before opening his eyes. He blinked at his empty, obviously America-less arms, before sleepily sitting up and rubbing his eyes, and slipping out of bed. He looked up when he heard a curse in the bathroom, and walked towards it, opening the door. He stared.

"America, what are you doing?" He asked. America looked up at him.

"I've lost Texas…" He mourned.

* * *

Germany slammed his fist on the alarm, checking the Italian curled against his chest, and sighed when he didn't stir. Carefully he started to slide out of his grip, freezing when Italy moaned. Looking around, he grabbed a pillow and managed to skilfully slide the pillow into place as he made his escape. Sliding out of bed, he padded softly across the room towards the door.

A hand gripped his wrist and Germany turned back as Italy moaned, turning in his sleep, the hold tightening. Germany stared at his sleeping face, before sighing, and scooping him up, sliding back in.

* * *

England growled at the arms enclosing him, trying desperately to escape the tight grip around his waist. It was no use. No matter how he kicked, squirmed, pulled, struggled, hit, shifted, poked and slid, he couldn't get free of his French lover.

"Come on, you bloody wanker…" He growled, trying again to pull away, to no avail. He sighed, relaxing into France's tight embrace.

"Whatever…" He muttered, not noticing the smug smirk on the man's face. A hand wandered, and then a voice squeaked in surprise.

"You perverted frog!"

"He, I- ow! Mon- Mon Amour! Ow, Angleterre! Arthur! Stop it!"

* * *

Canada was used to waking up to a cold and icy morning, bundled up in three or four blankets and Kumajiro.

What he DIDN'T expect was to wake up to a considerably warmer morning, the absence of Kumakiru and a smooth, well defined chest. He blinked once before his memory kicked in, and he blushed, looking up into the handsome face of Prussia. He swallowed and licked his lips, before looking around. Prussia was _delightfully_ warm… and his skin was surprisingly soft…

One red eye opened in tired surprise as a body hugged closer to him, before closing again, content.

* * *

"PAPA! MAMA!" Finland's eyes snapped open as he heard Sealand's loud excited voice, and it was only Sweden's swift intervention that saved him from being squashed by the micro-nation. Sealand laughed as he collided into the pillow Finland had been sleeping on, said nation tucked tightly against Sweden's bare chest, his strong arms entrapping him. Used to this morning ritual, he yawned as Hanatamago climbed up after Sealand.

"Good morning, Sealand." He said sleepily, barely noticing as Sweden's grip loosened. Sealand beamed as Finland rolled away from Sweden, and slipped in between the two nations, Hanatamago nestled in his arms.

* * *

Turkey stirred, one hand rising to his throbbing head.

"Urgh… how much did I _drink_ last night?" He moaned, pausing as he heard similar moans. He opened his eyes, staring into familiar deep brown eyes, before throwing himself back in shock, slipping off the bed and landing on the floor. Greece did the same.

"Oh god!" Turkey shouted. "What did we do?" Greece sat up, scowling.

"This didn't… happen…" He stated firmly. Turkey nodded, although Greece didn't notice. Both nations paused as their memories kicked in.

"So… wanna do it again?" Turkey asked cautiously. Greece frowned thoughtfully.

"Sure… why not…"

* * *

"Bastard, get off."

"But Romaaaano!"

"I said, GET. OFF!" Romano kneed Spain squarely in the stomach, leaving the taller man gasping for breath as the Italian escaped his suffocating grip. Romano stood up from the bed and scowled, dusting himself off.

"Jerk…" He muttered, leaving the room and ignoring Spain calling out to him. Once he was down the hall, Romano leant against the wall.

"Idiot…" He muttered sullenly, remembering the feel of being engulfed by Spain, of being protected and loved by the older country. He blushed.

"It's all your fault!" He shouted abruptly, marching down the hall again.


End file.
